


Magnolias in the Country

by downn_in_flames



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Unrequited Love, finds new ship, immediately sinks it, inspired by thomas rhett's "marry me", like literally just straight angst i'm not even sorry, scorbus is also like a relatively new ship for me, why am i like this, yes this is angst inspired by a country song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 03:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downn_in_flames/pseuds/downn_in_flames
Summary: In all honesty, Albus would rather be literally anywhere else than the wedding between the love of his life and his cousin.





	Magnolias in the Country

**Author's Note:**

> Story title comes from “Marry Me” by Thomas Rhett, which is coincidentally where the inspiration for this story comes from.

A dark-haired wizard pulls a flask from the pocket of his dress robes, unscrewing the cap and swallowing a generous portion of firewhisky. He hadn’t expected to need the alcohol so soon, but apparently the mere sight of the wedding venue is enough to set his nerves ablaze.

He knows he’s running late, that he should already be moving about the venue, making sure that the rest of the groomsmen are doing their assigned jobs and generally ensuring that the beginnings of the day go off without a hitch.

But there’s lead in his shoes and an acute sense of dread pooling in his stomach, and it’s been holding him back from moving in the purposeful manner that’s expected of someone holding his level of importance at this event.

He knows what it is that’s keeping him frozen in place, because it’s the same thing subtly shoving him forward, reminding him that he needs to be there for Scorpius.

It’s love.  _Love_ , Albus thinks to himself,  _that thing with feathers and wings and claws, that digs into your soul to make its mark and leave its pain before flying away, off into the distance, leaving you cold and alone and scarred._

Albus Potter is in love with Scorpius Malfoy, but Albus isn’t the one marrying him today.

 

* * *

 

Albus has always had some sort of internalized radar that allows him to find his best friend in a room within seconds. One could argue that it’s not that difficult – that really, all anyone has to do is look for the tallest boy in the room with the shock of messy platinum hair, but Albus knows it’s something more than just that.

It’s the result of seven years of being inseparable at Hogwarts, and staying so in the years after that. Of knowing everything there is to know about each other, from Albus’ secret insecurities about living up to his father’s reputation to the thin hairline scar that stretches across the inside of Scorpius’ right thigh.

But even if Albus hadn’t found Scorpius – his glowing, beautiful Scorpius – immediately, he would’ve found him a few moments later, because the blond boy instantly notices him in return.

“Albus! You’re here!” he exclaims, crossing the room in long, graceful strides. “I was beginning to think you’d missed your Portkey!”

Scorpius gives his best friend a tight hug, hovering somewhere in the void between a ‘platonic hug between friends’ and something more. Albus unconsciously inhales Scorpius’ familiar scent of cedarwood and citrus, and it sends his heartbeat into an even more frazzled tempo.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Albus chokes out. Even though, in all honesty, he’d rather be literally anywhere else than the wedding between the love of his life and his  _cousin_.

It’s only out of loyalty to his best friend (and, of course, the formal obligation of the best man title) that he’s here right now.

The other groomsmen – two of Albus and Scorpius’ other friends from Hogwarts, one of Scorpius’ cousins, and Rose’s little brother Hugo – start welcoming the guests, leaving Albus alone with Scorpius.

Scorpius stops in front of a mirror, checking his reflection and fiddling with the bowtie around his neck. “Can you re-do this? You know I’ve always been miserable with ties of all sorts.”

Albus is instantly transported back to the day they met, when Scorpius changed into his Hogwarts robes and had the most pitiful four-in-hand knot that Albus had ever seen. Albus had fixed Scorpius’ tie that day too, and that simple act had been the catalyst for their years of friendship.

“Of course,” Albus answers, and hopes that he’s successfully masking the myriad of emotions floating through his brain right now.

He walks in front of Scorpius, hands shaking as he gently pulls the bowtie undone and starts to tie it again. He tries to focus solely on the silk fabric between his fingers, instead of how much he’d like to place his lips on the pale skin of Scorpius’ neck, to run his hands through his hair, to pop all the buttons off his tuxedo shirt in the middle of a passionate kiss.

Scorpius’ voice tears him from his concentration. “Do you – do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

The voice in the back of Albus’ head is screaming:  _no, no, NO_. And if Albus were to indulge that little voice, he would tell Scorpius that marrying Rose is a mistake, that Scorpius should run off with him instead.

But Albus had his chance once before, and he blew it. He’s not allowed to say things like that now.

So he settles for what he thinks he should be saying: the things that a normal best friend would say. “Do you love her?”

“More than anything,” Scorpius replies instantaneously.

The words send a fresh fissure through Albus’ already-broken heart. Although, really, he was asking for this. What did he expect to hear in response to that question? ‘Not as much as I love you’? As lovely as the idea is, Albus has been watching Scorpius and Rose’s relationship blossom since seventh year. It’s a hopeless cause at this point.

“Then you have your answer.” Albus gives him a firm clap on the shoulder and counts the seconds in his head,  _one-two-three_ , to make sure he pulls his hand away at the acceptable time.

“Thanks, Albus,” Scorpius answers, suddenly pulling Albus into yet another hug. Albus has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop from crying and damn, it hits him that he really needs another shot of firewhisky before he’ll be able to stand up on that stage and watch Scorpius get married.

Eventually, Scorpius’ arms fall away, and Albus can feel the absence acutely.

“Let’s get you married, yeah?” Albus eventually says, hoping that the crack in his voice doesn’t betray just how much he’s shattering on the inside right now.

Scorpius is oblivious to Albus’ internal struggle, which is a testament to Albus’ acting skills, because Scorpius can usually read his best friend like a book.

He grins. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Albus fulfills all his best man duties to a T. He stands by the altar during the ceremony, face contorted into a mask of neutrality, the way that Albus thinks a person’s face should look when they’re watching their entirely-platonic best friend marry the love of their life. He poses for all the requisite wedding party pictures, plastering a grin on his face and even managing to crack a joke about finally being related to his best friend now.

Even though Albus would’ve much preferred the title ‘husband’ to the one he got: ‘cousin-in-law.’

His best man speech has everyone laughing and ‘awww’-ing and applauding, and it only takes him an additional three shots of firewhisky from the open bar to wash the artificial and overly-saccharine words from his mouth.

Albus stands on the edge of the party as Scorpius and Rose cut their wedding cake. He’s cursing himself – why can’t he just be happy for his best friend? It’s what Scorpius deserves – a best friend that’s genuinely delighted about his new marriage.

As Albus watches Scorpius give Rose a sweet, icing-laced kiss, he’s greeted with an uninvited memory. A memory from his sixth year, sitting in the Slytherin common room with Scorpius late at night, laughing and bumping knees and leaning closer and closer, and then suddenly their lips were touching and then…

Albus had pulled away. In that moment of panic, Albus made some sort of excuse and ignored the slightly-crestfallen look that crossed his best friend’s face.

Not for the first time, Albus wonders if things might have turned out differently if he hadn’t ran away. Maybe Albus would be the one marrying Scorpius today instead of Rose. He curses his 16-year-old self for being so cowardly.

If only his adolescent self could’ve known just how much pain that one little action would cause him in his later years. Perhaps he wouldn’t have run – and perhaps he wouldn’t be so heartbroken now.

Albus finds another shot of firewhisky – his ninth so far today, possibly? – and doesn’t even flinch as the liquor burns its way down his esophagus. It may burn his throat, but it numbs everything else.

He’s able to keep it together until Rose and Scorpius’ departure, when they go around as husband and wife to say farewell to their guests before catching a Portkey to their honeymoon. This time, when Scorpius hugs him, there’s no mistaking it for anything but friendly.

“Thanks for all your help today, Al,” Rose says sweetly, and hatred for his cousin rises up in Albus’ throat like bile.

Of course, she doesn’t deserve that wrath, and Albus still has enough of his wits about him to keep his mouth glued shut. Ruining his relationship with Rose would undoubtedly ruin his relationship with Scorpius – wives trump friends, after all – and Albus would most certainly fall apart if his actions caused him to lose not only Scorpius’ love but also his friendship.

So it’s only after they’re gone that Albus disappears into the depths of the reception hall, taking a bottle of firewhisky that he’d nicked from the bar with him as his only source of company.

There, sitting on the floor of an empty hallway, is where the tears that’ve been stinging the back of Albus’ eyes all day are finally let free. He pulls his knees to his chest, letting the pain of a broken heart consume him, tearing his soul apart with a kind of agony he hadn’t known possible until this moment.

It’s James who finds him first, still with his forehead to his knees and the bottle of firewhisky much less full than it was before.

Albus feels his brother sit in the space next to him.

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

Albus and his brother haven’t ever really been all that close, not since starting Hogwarts, at least. Different houses, different friends, and different interests had served to split them apart; James had his Gryffindor Quidditch captaincy and Albus had his Slytherin Prefect badge.

But despite that, James has always known his little brother better than anyone.

Albus picks his head up and nods wordlessly. He’s sure he looks just as much of a disaster as he feels; his insides have been in turmoil all day, and now that he’s not suppressing it, he’s positive that his eyes are bloodshot and swollen, his face drawn and pale. He probably reeks of alcohol as well.

“You did good today, in spite of all of that,” James replies. “You made Scorpius really happy.”

Albus’ tongue feels like it’s made of lead, although he’s not sure if that’s from the alcohol or something else. “And that’s all that matters,” he forces out, the words somewhat slurred and so quiet that it’s a wonder James can even hear them at all.


End file.
